


Sometime Today

by kingdra (aroceu)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: harry_submits, Fluff and Smut, HP: EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-29
Updated: 2012-02-29
Packaged: 2017-10-31 22:30:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroceu/pseuds/kingdra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even though Draco is a coward, he's going (sort of) to tell Potter the truth about his feelings for the past several years. And yeah, it's going to be a bit difficult. But at least they're alone together--in detention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometime Today

**Author's Note:**

> For harry_submits @ LJ. Prompt was: Harry and Draco are stuck in detention together. Draco, who has harboured a crush on Harry for years takes advantage of their alone time. (kubrick_potter)  
> 

  
The problem wasn't the detention. The problem was that Draco was stuck in detention with Harry bloody _Potter_.  
  
The problem wasn't that he hated him. No, no, far from that. The problem was that Draco had been carelessly meandering around in Potions class like the careless Draco he was--because he didn't really need to _care_ to do well in Potions, to be honest--when suddenly Harry Potter asked him to pass the silver knife and Draco carelessly didn't look where he was putting the knife and ended up stabbing Saint Potter.  
  
Right in the middle of his bloody hand.  
  
_Literally._  
  
\--  
  
Rewind.  
  
Days, perhaps even weeks before this detention, the detention that Draco now knew was a curse or something because God obviously hated him, Draco was being his usual self around Hogwarts. His usual self this year, that is. His usual self this year wasn't much different to his usual self in the previous years, if you ignored the fact that first years to fourth years gave him frightful looks and seemed to jump out of their skin whenever he was around because apparently it was difficult to forget that he was an ex-Death Eater. The fifth years to the eighth years, however--  
  
\--  
  
Rewind a bit more.  
  
At the end of the war last year, Potter and his friends Weasley and Granger (and girl Weasley and a few other Weasleys and that Lovegood girl who'd been at his manor for a couple of weeks last year, and Finnigan and Longbottom and Thomas and--well, the lot that Potter hung out with) were good people and sent all the major Death Eaters to jail. They testified against all the ones who deserved it, including Draco's father--though Draco held no malice against that, because as much as he hated them more for it he couldn't blame them. Then the extraordinary happened and Potter treated him like a normal person for _once_ because after his own hearing (to which Potter had said he was innocent, but everyone knew that) Potter came up to him and gave him his wand--Draco's original wand since he was eleven--and said, "I forgive you."  
  
What exactly did Potter forgive him for? Draco didn't know.  
  
All he knew was that after that, his feelings over the past several years were suddenly clear as day to him.  
  
\--  
  
Rewind to Draco's previous years in Hogwarts:  
  
First year: Potter turns Draco's offer at friendship. Their war starts.  
  
Second year: Potter can speak Parseltongue. _Parseltongue_. Draco is jealous.  
  
Third year: Draco gets too much fun with taunting Potter about his oaf friend and his criminal godfather (though later he discovers that said criminal godfather is his relative? What?)  
  
Fourth year: Potter is a champion. And looks smashing in his green dress robes--  
  
Wait, _what?_  
  
Fifth year: Potter is an arse and gets Draco's father thrown into jail, yet Draco can't get himself to hate Potter as much as he wants to.  
  
Sixth year: Potter watches him. Draco knew this, because he's not exactly stupid. Potter is, however, and apparently uses a _curse_ and _Dark Magic_ and practically _slices Draco's chest open._  
  
Yet Draco still can't truly hate him.  
  
Seventh year: Potter disappears, reappears in _Draco's mansion, takes Draco's wand and then later saves him from deathly fire that that idiot Crabbe had conjured up_. (Though of course Vincent had always been an idiot so it wasn't really his fault. It was his genetics'.)  
  
\--  
  
And the moment Potter had forgiven him, Draco realized that he'd been in love with Harry Potter all along.  
  
\--  
  
Fast-forward just a _little_ bit.  
  
After the war, after the trials, after the whole Death Eater frenzy and getting everything straightened out between the Wizarding world and the Muggle world (but ugh, seriously, who _cares_ about them?), school started.  
  
Draco hadn't wanted to go. He wasn't looking forward to possibly being stared at (which happened), being pointed at (which happened once in a while and when Draco wasn't looking), being teased (yeah, like he'd let _that_ happen), or--even worse--being bullied (not on anyone's life). It just wasn't in the Malfoy blood to be any of those things.  
  
But Mother had insisted and whatever Mother insisted went. Mother had also been relatively okay with Father going to Azkaban, although seemed a bit depressed toward the beginning of summer. But Draco knew his mother and knew that she would be strong enough to pull herself out of it.  
  
Anyway.  
  
Mother had wanted him to go to school when they'd gotten the letter from Professor--well, Headmistress McGonagall. Seventh years usually didn't get letters from Hogwarts after the term was over, but of course the previous year had been an exception with all of the craziness going on. She'd offered to the seventh years to take another year, an "eighth year" to get a proper education that Draco thought was stupid because he could probably get a Ministry job or something, with his grades and his father's connec--  
  
Oh, wait.  
  
So, begrudgingly but knowing that it was good for him, Draco complied and went to Hogwarts just as his mother had requested.  
  
And, surprisingly, Potter, Weasley and Granger had decided to go back to school as well.  
  
(Word was that Potter and Weasley didn't want to, but Granger persisted and did whatever Granger-ish things that Grangers did to get Potters and Weasleys to do as she commanded, so such and such things happened.)  
  
Life went on.  
  
\--  
  
Fast-forward a bit more.  
  
It was well into the term when Professor Slughorn, the ( _idiot_ ) Potions Professor (perhaps he wasn't an idiot, but he was certainly a dunce), noticed for the first time in two years that Harry Potter was actually awful at Potions. Well, perhaps not awful, but not as good as he had been a couple of years ago. He wanted to assign him to someone who was good at Potions, to help him.  
  
Granger had been occupied by Weasley.  
  
Most of the rest of the class were seventh years.  
  
And now that Draco didn't have idiotic Dark Magic things to worry about this year, he was doing quite well in his classes and was second to Granger in Potions. So of course, Slughorn had to notice that.  
  
So of course, Potter became Draco's Potions partner.  
  
\--  
  
Then Draco accidentally stabbed him with a knife.  
  
\--  
  
What followed that was a rather violet and poorly aimed duel, resulting in Nott being covered with tentacles on his face and Weasley getting quite pissy over the fact that his hair was no longer hair, but dung.  
  
Draco had thought it was quite funny.  
  
\--  
  
So, this detention.  
  
The problem was that Draco and Potter were in detention alone. Emphasis on the _alone_. With a capital A.  
  
And they weren't even doing anything because apparently Slughorn was arse at giving detentions. They were just sitting there, reflecting on whatever was supposed to be reflected.  
  
Potter was carving things into the table with his wand.  
  
"Will you stop that!" Draco said exasperatedly.  
  
Potter turned red and quickly put his wand down. "Sorry," he muttered.  
  
Draco didn't even know why Potter was being so damn _awkward_. Potter had been behaving oddly this whole year, at least towards him. When they weren't fighting or arguing, which was seventy percent of their interactions, Potter was = quiet and reserved like there was something he was keeping from Draco.  
  
What would Potter need to keep from him?  
  
Draco, on the other hand, was still battling his feelings about Potter, as he had been this whole school year. He wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell _somebody_. But he bloody well couldn't because his friends would laugh and/or mock him, and his friends were the only people he could talk to!  
  
Well of course, there was his mother, but Draco didn't want to talk about romance with his mother. Besides, knowing her, she probably already figured it out. She'd probably picked it up before even _second year_ , when Draco had been complaining about Harry bloody Potter all summer long.  
  
Merlin, Draco had been pathetic back then.  
  
But he was being pathetic now because he was getting frustrated over his feelings like a twelve-year old schoolgirl. Why couldn't he just tell Potter now? _Why?_  
  
Oh right, because they were supposed to be enemies and they were supposed to hate each other and Draco was an ex-Death Eater, ex-Voldemort supporter, while Harry Potter was the _greatest wizard in the world who vanquished the darkest dark wizard of all dark times._  
  
It just wouldn't work.  
  
But they were _alone_. And Draco didn't care what Potter thought about his crush, to be quite honest, because he didn't care about what Potter thought about his anything. He never did. It was the way Draco was. He knew that Potter thought he was an arse, a stuck-up git, perhaps even a ponce and Draco didn't care at all. (Well, maybe a little bit.)  
  
And he didn't care what Potter thought if Potter knew that Draco liked him. So what? And Potter was a decent person, Draco was sure that if he asked _very very nicely_ , Potter wouldn't tell anyone about it.  
  
Besides, Potter was looking quite nice. Well, he always did. He still wore overlong clothes like he had been for the past few years (and it was kind of adorable), under his robes that fit him better than the clothes. His dark hair was always rumpled and fell over his scar and deep green eyes, the eyes that had gotten along so well with that dress robe he wore in fourth year.  
  
And Potter wasn't too bad personality-wise, either. All right, he could be a bit of a git once in a while but Draco doubted that he was any better. Draco liked the way Potter was confident in Quidditch and Being Good and all that, and then pretty much unsure with everything else. That was quite adorable as well.  
  
And now Potter was staring at him oddly because Draco was staring at _him_. Oh, shit.  
  
"Um," said Potter, holding his hand that had been wounded--the hand that Madam Pomfrey had healed in all but five minutes. "Malfoy, what are you doing?"  
  
"Nothing," said Draco quickly, turning away.  
  
"Er." Potter sounded like he wanted to be suspicious, but only wanted to be. "I don't know if I can believe you."  
  
"Potter, some of us have lives! Not all of us are spending every moment mooning over you, if that's what you thought!" said Draco, refusing to face him.  
  
"But I didn't..." Draco heard him sigh. "Whatever."  
  
Draco fidgeted irritably in his seat, wondering how much longer he had to be stuck here with him. Slughorn said he'd be back, but he hadn't been back yet and it'd been a half hour already! Draco was still torn between telling Potter and not telling Potter and couldn't something just happen for him to make the decision already?  
  
Telling Potter would be the best idea because it would be killing two birds with one stone--Draco's frustration with keeping it bottled up, and making a damn decision in the first place--but Draco wasn't brave enough to do it. He wasn't brave in _general_ , that was the problem. He was always frightened of messing things up and doing things wrong and not being _perfect_ , and Draco never wanted to risk anything like that.  
  
And he knew it was wrong, but it was part of his nature. Malfoys weren't supposed to show cowardice. They were supposed to show strength and keep emotions behind masks. Not just _supposed to_ , they didn't.  
  
Yet this logic didn't make sense because what did it matter if Potter saw him screw up? Potter, who'd screwed up hundreds of times, who'd caused people to give up their lives for him--things that Draco didn't look down on and nobody else did, but things that Draco knew that Potter didn't want. Potter wasn't perfect either.  
  
What was the worst thing that could happen? Potter laughing at him, and asking him if he was joking?  
  
(Well, he could always say no-- Potter could always give him a sour look of contempt and say that he was disgusting-- Potter could always say that never in a million years would he want to be with Draco--)  
  
But this was Potter, dammit! Draco didn't care!  
  
And they were alone and this was the perfect time and Draco should just _do it_ \--  
  
"Potter," he said suddenly, losing all sense of emotion and feeling and humiliation and only having the idea of being a man on a mission in his head, "there's something I need to tell you."  
  
Potter looked completely bewildered, as bewildered as his oaf friend would be if someone had told him his mother was actually a house-elf. "You do?"  
  
"Yes." Draco took a deep breath.  
  
But then suddenly, all of his urges to push away his emotions suddenly bounced back and Draco felt himself overcome with feeling--overwhelmed. He remembered all the reasons why he wanted to tell Potter and didn't want to tell Potter and all the reasons that he liked him, and all the reasons that he didn't like him, and all the reasons over the years Draco had simultaneously admired him and wanted to be his friend and detested him and wanted to be as far away from him as possible--that Draco lost control of all he was saying, all he was feeling, all he was doing.  
  
And he kissed him.  
  
It was a damn bad kiss too. Potter's eyes shot wide in surprise but he didn't pull away. After a moment, Draco seemed to register the thought, _I'm kissing Harry Potter_ , about ten million times in his mind and shot back, still on the hinges of reality.  
  
"Ah--s-sorry--I didn't mean to do that--"  
  
"I like you," said Potter.  
  
And _that_ was completely unexpected. But Potter was pink-faced and he looked a tad embarrassed (and adorable) and his green eyes were downcast, barely visible beneath his thick eyelashes.  
  
"I, um," said Potter. "If that's what you wanted to tell me. I like you too."  
  
Draco's head was spinning. "You _do_?" he asked, his voice sounding miles away.  
  
"Yeah, I--I, uh, over the summer I couldn't stop thinking about you, and I just--I dunno." Potter cleared his throat. "Ah, um. Sorry for making this really uncomfortable between us." Like that kiss had never happened.  
  
But Draco wasn't thinking with his brain anymore. Actually he wasn't thinking at _all_ because in a rush, he'd gone from nervous to conflicted to unaware to _stupid_ to--what was this now, relieved?--that he just couldn't hold it in anymore, and he leaned over and kissed Potter square on the lips again.  
  
This time, the kiss was much better and Potter was caught off-guard again, but he responded. Quite enthusiastically, at that. His hand went to Draco's chin and Draco's fingers cupped Potter's face and his lips moved along Potter's like a series of undulating waves. Mouths opened, teeth clacked rather clumsily, and Draco's tongue slipped against Potter's and Potter let out a delicious moan that Draco couldn't help but feel himself get a little hard at-- _damn_ , kissing Potter certainly was amazing. Draco wondered why he hadn't done it earlier. Why _nobody_ did it. Like, every day. If everyone had a chance to kiss Harry Potter, the world would surely to be a better place.  
  
Though Draco didn't really want anyone else to kiss Potter, except for himself.  
  
When they came up for air--and it seemed like it'd been ages, really, _ages_ \--he could see that Potter's eyes were glazed with lust and something like adoration or affection (or perhaps even both). Draco found his mouth stretched into a grin he couldn't control, and he found himself saying, "Want to continue?"  
  
"Yes please," said Potter and his voice was all soft and husky at the same time that Draco was getting even _harder_. Merlin.  
  
Draco leaned in and their next few kisses were languid, but Draco wanted more and tried to resist and he tried, he really tried. But Potter's hands were wrapped around his neck and he was holding onto Draco for dear life, it seemed, that Draco's arousal was just getting bigger and he kissed Potter deeper and put his hands on either sides of his head and--  
  
_Crash!_ They had both fallen out of their seats and to the floor. Draco's arm was a bit sore, but Potter seemed to be in a worse position--his head had banged on the ground and he'd winced, a little.  
  
"Are you all right?" Draco asked worriedly, and then snapped out of the tone. "I mean, if we're going to continue this, I don't want to get hurt."  
  
Potter giggled at Draco's turn of tone. "I'm fine," he said, looking up at Draco. "The floor's quite comfortable, anyways." His green eyes were laughing and dancing and Draco kissed him, again.  
  
Through their heated kissing, which had turned into a snog-fest of sorts, Draco's hand was inching farther and farther south until it was at Potter's waist, teasing through the inside of his robes. Potter didn't seem to notice until Draco had actually lifted up Potter's Muggle shirt and touched Potter's smooth skin, to which Potter let out a few surprised noises into Draco's mouth and against his nose.  
  
"I was kidding about the floor being comfortable, you know," he panted against Draco's face.  
  
"Oh, I'm sure you can handle it, Potter," said Draco with a roll of his eyes, fingers teasing on his stomach.  
  
Potter sighed, but it was more of adoration and less of exasperation, almost as if he'd predicted Draco to act this way. "Okay, _Malfoy_ ," he said. "Git," he added under his breath.  
  
"I heard that," said Draco, busying his hands with undoing whatever other Muggle clothes Potter had on.  
  
Potter's robes were exposed and his trousers (Draco knew a thing or two about them) were getting a bit difficult to pull away, but Draco finally got it. At this point, Potter had seemed to forget that they were on the floor and was just taking everything Draco was giving him. So then Draco did something brave--something he never thought he'd be doing before (though he had dreamed it plenty of times.) His hand slipped down into the front of Potter's trousers, and Potter let out a groan.  
  
“You like that?” Draco murmured into his ear, his warm cheek flush against Potter’s. His fingers found their way to the length of Potter’s cock, and it was hot and heavy in his hand and Draco had never known a better feeling.  
  
Potter gasped. “Y-Yes,” he breathed, pressing his body close to Draco’s.  
  
Then Potter’s own hands moved to the front of Draco’s robes and pulled them apart, too, but before Potter could even get any closer to getting further, Draco batted his hands away with his free hand.  
  
Potter frowned and pouted in Draco’s face. “What?” he said, looking adorable under him.  
  
Draco smirked. “Let me stay in control, okay?”  
  
“What? But that’s not--”  
  
Draco cut him off with a kiss, which he’d gotten used to, which had gotten to feel like home in the past several minutes.  
  
“Just trust me,” he said, the words he’d never expected to say to Harry Potter.  
  
And he’d never expected that Harry Potter would take him seriously and would actually do as he said, but since miracles were happening today, he did. Potter obeyed and did nothing, and Draco undid his own robes although he didn’t take them off. It felt too early to expose his bare arse to Potter.  
  
He tightened his grasp around Potter’s (wonderful) cock and Potter let out a sound that was a mix between a moan and a cry, of pleasure, probably, and Draco got even harder at the mere sound. Acting in the moment, he stripped open the rest of his robes so that his bare front was open and he saw Potter’s eyelids flutter, a little, to get a good look at him and Potter looked sorely tempted to reach for Draco’s erection, too.  
  
But he didn’t, like the good Potter he was.  
  
“Hold still,” Draco commanded, and Potter giggled breathlessly, “You honestly think I’m able to do that in this position?” Draco rolled his eyes but Potter knew what he meant, because he stayed in place as best he could as Draco’s fingers fumbled to reach for both his cock’s while still holding onto Potter’s and the moment skin touched skin, Draco nearly collapsed out of exhilaration.  
  
Because it was _amazing_. It was heaven. It was--well, it wasn’t much and Draco knew that they could (and probably would, in the future. The far future) do so much more but just being against Potter was enough. And Potter’s breathing was getting heavier and his voice was getting raspier and Draco could see his dark pupils expanding over those gorgeous green eyes and Potter let out a, “ _Move_ ,” and Draco didn’t want to just so he could keep Potter in that moment forever.  
  
But he moved and Draco nearly felt himself climax at that very moment. He ground against Potter again, and Potter seemed completely surprised like this was the first time he’d done such a thing (which it most likely was) but he let Draco continue on and Draco did, thrusting his body against him and sliding their cocks together in his hand. It was difficult and hurt a bit and Draco realized then they’d need some lubrication; but when he brought his hand up to spit on his palm, Potter said, “Let me,” and brought his mouth around Draco’s fingers. His lashes fell over his dark eyes as he sucked on Draco’s hand, and Draco was too mesmerized by watching him that when Potter was done he almost forgot what he was supposed to do.  
  
“Malfoy?” said Potter, and the sound of his surname brought Draco back down to earth. “Aren’t you going to--”  
  
“Oh, right,” said Draco, feeling embarrassed at getting caught staring at Potter again, except this time Potter was smiling and only looked pleased at it so Draco didn’t mind so much. He brought his hand back down between them and took hold of both their cocks again and slid, thick with tension and heat.  
  
Potter shuddered and let out another little moan, and Draco kept rubbing, rubbing them together so that nothing could ever come between them and he was aware, he was aware of every inch of Potter’s body, both clothed and naked and he wanted to do so much more but told himself that this was good enough for now. And Draco shifted so that his length was pressed flat against Potter’s and Potter seemed like he was unwinding already and Draco was almost, _almost_ going to--  
  
They didn’t reach the same point at the same time because Potter came first, but when he did he looked beautiful, with cheeks flushed and glasses clumsily falling down to below his chin, though still hanging off his ears and Draco watched with admiration before feeling himself come too. Both their come splashed onto Draco’s hand and their cocks were wetter and warmer and Draco didn’t know a better feeling than this, than Potter with him and beneath him and just taking in all that Draco was giving him.  
  
It was better than kissing him.  
  
Draco pulled back after a few silent moments when they were done, still trying to catch their breath after the heat of the moment. As Draco closed his robes back together and adjusted his clothes, Potter sat up against the legs of the chairs they’d been sitting in some time ago.  
  
“Um,” said Potter, still quite red but with his glasses adjusted. He’d gotten his own clothes together and his robes, though a bit rumpled, fell back over his front and torso. “Are we--”  
  
“Yes,” said Draco, not looking at him as he made sure that his hair was proper and neat. Even if he smelled like sex, he didn’t want to go around looking like it. “Don’t even ask me, Potter. Of course we are.”  
  
“Oh,” said Potter, and then he blushed. “Okay. I was just making sure.”  
  
“You think that I wouldn’t want something like _this_ \--what just happened--turn into something else?”  
  
Draco looked Potter in the eyes again and Potter’s eyes had gone back to their normal green, less dark but more genuine. And with all the same emotion.  
  
“Well I wasn’t sure,” said Potter, ducking his head down. “I’m glad, because I never thought--”  
  
“Neither did I.”  
  
There was a silence and Potter just stared at Draco as Draco stared at him, and their knees knocked lightly against each other as they sat against the chairs. Draco didn’t know what it was but there was something between them, something that he’d never noticed before but had always been there.  
  
He broke the silence by saying, “Do you think Slughorn’s ever gonna come?”  
  
Potter shrugged and smiled. “I dunno. I think he may have forgotten about us.”  
  
“Well in that case,” said Draco, bringing himself up and (impulsively) grabbing Potter’s hand. “I think there are better places we can be other than empty classrooms.”  
  
“I’m not so sure about that,” said Potter, but they both laughed and left, Draco feeling significantly happier than he had been for the past seven years.


End file.
